The House Problem
by Nyannyannayn
Summary: A glimpse into the childhood of Greg House through a series of stories set throughout his youth. A look into his relationship with his mother, his father and what made the boy grow up into the man he turned out to be.
1. Age 6  Alone

_***Author's Notes:_**  
><strong>_Phew, I was really apprehensive about posting this first chapter and I hope someone out there likes it because I would love to write more. If you have any requests, ideas or thoughts- Please feel free to review and suggest anything you would like to read in future chapters!  
><em>

**Age 6 – Alone**

The six-year-old boy sniveled quietly and rubbed his teary red eyes. He wondered how long he would be able to hide behind the shed in the bushes until they found him.

He processed the events of earlier in that day in his tiny toddler mind;

His mother leaving him with a new teacher in a big strange place filled with new faces, new adults, and new kids…

She told him to be good, smiled and gave him a kiss on the forehead, and then tried to tame his uneven wavy brown hair…

He looked up at her with big blue eyes, his eyebrow twitching slightly, a sort of nervous reaction- a plea to his mom to pick him up and not leave him there.

It didn't work.

"Now you be good, ok Greg?" Blythe asked of her son. It has been a week since they moved to the new base, and Greg was now old enough to start school- which made things even more complicated.

Her only son has been moved from place to place far to often for a young boy. She knew a child needed stability, but she also knew her husband loved his job.

She looked down at her son, who was looking at the ground, kicking a tiny rock in the dirt. Her heart broke slightly. She knew this wasn't going to be easy for Greg, and she knew all the moving around he had done in his young life had caused him to be more nervous about new situations and people. She knew he was probably scared, but she also hoped he would enjoy school. Most of all, Blythe House hoped that now that Greg will be starting school, John will stop moving the family around, giving the boy some sense of stability- a mother can only hope…

She smiled at her son, "Go on…" She said as the first school bell of the morning rang, "Your home room is that way…" She gave her son a slight push as he obediently walked away. Now she could only hope for him to do well.

Greg was sitting in class, it's been two hours since school has started and he was already getting bored. The other kids seemed to know each other, forming groups and drawing pictures together. Greg was new to town and was still getting over losing his friends from the previous base, and the one before that… as a matter of fact, this was the very first time Greg was painfully aware of all that he had lost over the years, sitting there all alone, with a piece of paper and 4 broken crayons in front of him, listening to the buzz and laughter of other children, a new feeling came over him- he was alone.

Mom always said that when he gets older he would understand, whenever he would ask her how come they had to go, she said he would someday understand. This feeling of loneliness that just came over him, was that what his mother meant? Greg wondered if this is what it feels to grow up. Whatever it was he was feeling, he was sure it wasn't going to get any better by staying there, he looked around him, not a single soul in this room knew him, he couldn't even remember his new teacher's name, a slight feeling of panic took over him, as he felt alone and ignored, he was pretty sure if he left right now no one will ever know. So he did. Carefully, and while the teacher was smiling at a group of laughing children, admiring their works of art, Greg slipped out of the home room.

Once he was out in the hall, he ran as fast as he could. He was only 6, and his mom told him to never go anywhere alone. She always held his hand when out in crowded places, and always told him to seek an adult when he was lost. But at this moment Greg didn't care, he found a cozy spot in the bushes behind the shed in the far end of the schoolyard, and decided to stay there.

He didn't know how long he's been there as he woke up and realized where he was, and remembered how he got there. It was dark outside now. And remembering where he was and what happened made the tired little boy confused, as little tears started streaming down his face, he painfully realized that he had been down here in the bushes long enough and no one was probably looking for him. And so reluctantly, hugging his knees, warming up his tiny frame- he cried. He knew he was being stupid, that's what dad always said, crying is stupid, only babies cry.

"Greg!" Blythe called, she was starting to lose hope. She got a call from Greg's teacher three hours after she dropped him off, telling her he was gone. Since then, the teacher, Blythe, her husband John, and several other school staff have been looking for the young boy, without even knowing he was asleep in the bushes and could not hear them.

"Greg!" Blythe called again, her voice now shaking with slight panic as she realized it was getting dark and her boy was still nowhere to be found, but then, in the midst of silence, she heard a rustle in the bushes and the ever so slightest sound of a weak cry.

She followed the sounds, as they got stronger, she kneeled down and parted the small group of bushes that revealed her small-framed boy.

He was startled and his voice caught in his throat.

She was relieved and sighed.

"Greg…" She whispered quietly, "What are you doing here? You had everyone worried sick…" Her words were gentle and warm, she wasn't mad, on the contrary, she could see he was upset- call it a mother's intuition, she ran her fingers through her son's hair and wiped his tear stained face. "What happened?" She asked him gently.

Greg didn't answer, he wasn't a quiet child usually, in fact, he was curious and loud, crude, some would say, asking his mother about everything and everyone, not backing down on getting an answer even in the most impossible scenarios such as dinner parties and army functions. John used to tell Blythe his behavior is unacceptable, but Blythe embraced her son's curiosity, seeing it as a talent to be nurtured and not to be repressed. She knew something was wrong, Greg was silent, and his usually curious blue eyes were dimmed behind dark circles. Her 6 year olds' face expressed the sadness of a much older man and lacked the innocence of a child at this very moment. It broke her heart to see him this way.

"Come here…" She said softly, embracing him into a hug. She could feel him almost claw his fingers unto her shoulders as he let out a small whimper. There was no need to talk to him now, he would tell her eventually, when he was ready. She picked him up and turned to walk away.

"John…" She said when she saw her husband, a stern look on his face. Greg still had his head buried in the back of her neck, and she could feel him grasping her tighter as he heard her call his father's name.

"Put him down…" John ordered coldly.

"John…" Blythe tried to explain softly, "The boy's frightened…"

"He's old enough to walk on his own… Stop cuddling him…" John cut off Blythe.

Blythe nodded. "Come on sweetie…" She whispered, as she pulled her boy away, placing him on the ground.

"Look at me…" Greg heard his father say. He didn't look up, for some reason hoping the words were not meant for him, even though he knew they were.

"I said look at me…" John said more sternly.

Greg lifted his eyes. Meeting his father's gaze.

"You're in school now." John said, "Big boys don't run off from class without being excused, big boys do as they're told, big boys are not babies that need to be carried by their mothers. Do I make myself clear, Gregory?"

"Yes sir…" Greg replied softly, his voice so broken it seemed as gravelly as the sand he was kicking nervously.

"I can't hear you, have some respect towards your father and speak up!" John said, applying the drill sergeant discipline he found so effective on his 6-year-old boy.

"Yes sir…" Greg said once more, this time looking his father straight in the eye just like he was taught.

His father signaled them to start walking. And the three family members made their way back to their current home.


	2. Age 7 Acts and Consequences

Age 7 – Acts and Consequences.

"But I don't want to go!" 7-year-old Gregory House whined as he was being practically dragged by his mother through the gates of the Beijing International School.

It was the middle of the school year when John House announced the family would be relocating to a base in China.

And so, Greg was uprooted in the middle of his second school year and moved across the world to an unfamiliar place, "It's just for a few months…" His father said.

It wasn't the family's first move since Greg has started school last year; in fact, he already attended three different schools in the United States before this move abroad. It seemed to Greg as if as soon he made friends in one place- he would get uprooted and jerked around to another, so he already made up his mind that this time around he won't even try to fit in- there just wasn't any point, and saying goodbye to friends was just too hard.

"I. Don't. Want. To. Go. !" Greg cemented his feet to the ground and croaked stubbornly. He pressed his eyebrows in such a matter that made sure a simple message was conveyed to his mother; he was not happy to be here.

"Greg, You have to go to school…" Blythe tried to reason with the boy, kneeling to face him at his own level, she fixed his wavy hair which he refused to let her comb this morning, "Come on, sweetie, you're going to be late if you keep this up…"

"I don't care!" Greg fidgeted in his spot uncomfortably as the bell could be heard ringing and children made their way into different classes.

"Gregory House…" Blythe said, her tone now more strict, as she knew her husband would not see eye to eye with her if she let their son skip the first day of school, "This is not a discussion and I will be taking you to class now whether you like it or not."

He was still pressing his eyebrows, his blue eyes almost popping out of their sockets with anger.

"I can stand here all day…" Blythe warned him.

He sighed and his face relaxed, "I hate it here…" he said quietly, but when his mother grabbed his hand and started walking into the big building he did not protest.

He kept staring at the floor as they walked down the halls. Greg was secretly relived to hear conversations in English taking place amongst the students, this was only his first week in China and everything, including the language, seemed overwhelming.  
>He felt his mother stop so he looked up. They were standing in front of an open classroom. The teacher was not there yet but groups of children were already seated, laughing and buzzing at each other.<p>

"One last chance to take me home with you…" Greg said cheekily, "I'll practice piano, I _know_ you like that."

Blythe couldn't help but to smile, Greg knew many things, she thought. In fact, the older the boy grew the more she noticed him develop a keen observant eye.  
>He would notice things about people, like how her eyelids jerk slightly as she closed her eyes when he practiced the piano.<br>He once told her; '_I know when dad's in a good mood because his mouth is a tiny bit open.' _Blythe found that remark to be remarkable coming out of the mouth of a seven year old boy. Her husband, John, had a bad habit of grinding his teeth and locking his jaw when put under pressure, so in a way, Greg was right, the few times when his father was relaxed, his jaw slacked and relaxed, giving his mouth a slightly open appearance. It was the kind of thing you would expect a wife to notice or even a brother – but not a child.

Blythe chuckled, sneaking a final attempt to tame the boys' head of hair "Nice try, Gregory" She gently squeezed his shoulder, "Go on…"

He nodded and made his way into the classroom.

"Be good!" Blythe called after him. Greg turned his head and smiled wearily, he wasn't making any promises. He hated it here.

…..

The next few weeks seemed to go by without a hitch. Almost like life was just moving along a conveyer belt.

Blythe was starting to get slightly worried about her sons behavior.

"He's been to quiet…" She told her husband one night as they were getting ready to go to bed, "He's just been…"

"Listening?" John raised an eyebrow in disregard to her concerns, "Obedient?" He snorted and sat on the edge of the bed taking off his socks, "You can't tell me you're worried just because the boy is doing as he's told for a change…"

Blythe sighed, "He's a small boy, John… It's not normal for him to seem this…" She searched for the correct phrasing in her mind, "Depressed…" She paused. As the word came out of her mouth, she felt a pinch in her heart, 'Depressed' was the last word a mother would like to use to describe her only son.

There was a long pause in which Blythe could see her husband struggling with her choice of words, she hoped to see a glimpse of compassion or guilt in John's eyes, some feeling towards the boy that did not involve disciplining or educating him.

"He's fine." John finally said coldly. "Now go to bed." His words automatically sounded like a barked order even when he didn't mean to.

….

Greg sat down on the paved steps of the International School. He had a small branch in one hand and his pocket knife- a birthday gift from his father, in another.

Carefully, and with an impressive amount of skill for a boy his age, Greg started to carve the branch.

"What are you making?" He heard a familiar voice but did not lift his gaze from the task at hand.

"Go away, Beckerman…." He said.

The other boy, Kevin Beckerman was a classmate of Greg's. A small English boy with wealthy parents; at least that's what Greg concluded since he always wanted what the other kids in class had and always seemed to show up with a bigger better version of such things the day after.

Greg remembered one time, the whole class celebrated Cho Xing's birthday. Her parents brought cake over to class and surprised her with a pony ride after school in the courtyard. When the rest of the parents came to pick up their children, Greg heard Beckerman whine in the distance: _"Daddy, I want it!"_

The next day Beckerman showed up to school riding a magnificent looking horse. It was almost like watching a scene out of the television; it was that unreal. But the boy indeed got what he wanted and spent the entire week raving about his damn horse until he grew tired of it and moved on to the next thing.

"I know!" Beckerman yelped, reminding Greg he was still sitting there, "It's the base of a kite!"

Greg kept carving his creation carefully, "No…" He growled.

"A birdfeeder!"

"No!" Greg snapped.

Beckerman was taken aback by Greg's last reaction, fidgeting back slightly, "I just wanted to be your friend…" He whined.

Greg chuckled, "No you didn't… You just want whatever I am making… Or my pocket knife…" He looked back at his project, "You always want something." He stated darkly.

"Do not!" Beckerman protested "No wonder you have no friends!" He got up angrily and was ready to leave the scene.

"Wait!" Greg called after Beckerman and watched the other boy turn back around, he sighed, "If you stay, I will show you what I'm making, it's almost done." Greg managed a weak smile.

Beckerman processed for a moment, "Deal!" He took a seat next to Greg.

Greg kept carving while Beckerman watched with interest. There was no harm in letting the other boy watch, Greg thought, it didn't mean they were friends. But some part of Greg knew he let Beckerman stay because he _did_, in fact, want a friend. Despite knowing that he would soon be uprooted again, he missed having friends. And this was his minds way of compensating for his loneliness for the last couple of months since he got to China. Beckerman was there- he had to work with what he got.

He thought he was done, so he reached into his pocket, pulling out a rubber band he managed to sneak out of the teacher's desk drawer. He placed the prized rubber band in between the two wooden rods he had carved out of the branch, pulling it back and forth with his fingers. It fit perfectly.

"You see this?" He turned to Beckerman, who nodded.

"It's called a slingshot. My dad taught me how to make one last summer when we went camping."

"What does it do?" Beckerman asked suspiciously.

Greg got up from his seat and scanned the ground for a small rock, once he found one- he continued: "It's an improvised weapon. A survival tool for if you ever get lost in the woods and need to hunt for food or get fruit from a high tree!"

Beckerman's eyes now glimmered with wonder, "Cool!"

"Yeah…" Greg snickered, now excited to finally have someone else his age to talk to, "My dad said that next summer he will take me to the shooting range and teach me how to shoot a real gun! But for now, I practice my aim with this, I want to surprise him!" Greg paused, "Watch this!"

He closed one eye and aimed the slingshot at a lone leaf on a naked tree. Once he was sure he had the right angle, he let the rubber band go and watched the rock fly. It hit the leaf, which fell to the ground with a small thump. Greg turned around to face Beckerman, his face beaming with pride.

"Wow!" Beckerman yelled excitingly, "I want to try! Give me!" He tried to grab the slingshot from Greg's hand. But Greg pulled away.

"I'm not sure I should let you…" Greg said worryingly. The only reason he knew how to use the slingshot was because his dad, an adult, showed him how. And he had enough common sense in him to know that not all 7 year olds processed that level of skill or had dads to show them how to do these things- just like not all kids had dads who bought them horses to ride to school every morning.

"I told you!" Beckerman hollered, "This is why you have no friends! You don't share!"

"I DO TO SHARE!" Greg protested, "It's just this…" He tried to explain.

"Do you want me to be your friend?" Beckerman asked.

Greg paused, "Well…Yeah… but…"

"So let me just try!"

Greg looked down at the slingshot and sighed, "One time…" He told Beckerman, "And then I want it back…"

Beckerman grabbed the slingshot, smiling ear to ear, "Be right back!" he yelped and ran across the courtyard.

Greg sighed wearily and sat back down on the steps, watching Beckerman as he settled on a target – The large cherry blossom at the edge of the garden.

Beckerman picked up a rock from the ground, setting it on the slingshot and trying to position his hands. He was aiming at the cherry blossom, getting ready to shoot, when suddenly it occurred to Greg that something was wrong, he shot to his feet to get a better look. He couldn't exactly put his finger on it until Beckerman released the rubber band- He was pulling it backwards.

"No!" Greg hollered and ran toward Beckerman, but it was too late. The rock hit the other boys' eye point blank. He grabbed his face and started screaming hysterically at the top of his lungs.

Greg slid to his knees right in front of the screaming boy, "Beckerman!" He panted, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Are you okay?"

But the other boy did not even seem aware of Greg's presence, he was clearly in a great deal of pain and would not remove his hands from his face.

"What's going on here?"

Greg turned around and saw Miss Yin, his home teacher running towards them, that's also when he noticed they were surrounded by a large group of children who were watching them, he could've sworn the whole damn school was there.

Miss Yin kneeled in front of Beckerman, and Greg moved aside without saying a word.

"Kevin honey!" Miss Yin tried to calm the boy, "Please move your hands." She carefully slid the boys' hands off his face; he was beet red and panting heavily, clearly in shock from what just happened. Greg sighed in relief when he saw Beckerman's eye was still intact, the rock missing it by less than an inch, he had a rather large gash under his eye, that started changing into shades of purple and yellow, and a bleeding open scrape on his cheek that seemed pretty deep.

Miss Yin inspected the boy, and when she realized it wasn't a matter of life or death she turned her attention to the slingshot that was lying on the ground, she picked up the device and carefully inspected it. "This is yours?" She asked Beckerman.

"No!" Beckerman cried hysterically, "It's his!" He pointed at Greg, who's cheeks turn red when he realized that now all eyes were on him.

"HE DID THIS TO ME!" Beckerman cried.

Greg's blood boiled, "No!" He protested, "He shot it I swear! He's lying!"

"Does this belong to you?" Miss Yin asked. Greg could tell she was angry and already made up her mind about the whole situation.

"Yes, it does, but…"

"No buts!" Miss Yin interrupted angrily, "Sarah, please escort Kevin to the nurse's office…" She ordered an older mousy looking girl.

"Gregory House!" She then proceeded, "Please come with me."

…..

"Anti-social", "Reckless", "Unwilling to participate".

These were only a few of the phrases used to describe Greg's behavior at the school in the past few months. As he sat in the hallway waiting patiently for his mother to come out of the meeting with Principal Reed and Miss Yin, he heard every painful word, he knew these words were not meant for his ears- but he kept listening regardless.

"He's been having a hard time adjusting, " Blythe tried to explain, "We've been moving an awful lot since he started school…"

"Mrs. House…" Principal Reed, a big impressive man interrupted her, "I am afraid that no matter what the reason may be, we just cannot afford this kind of behavior at this school." He paused, "I'm very sorry, but our students safety is our first priority and I am afraid I have no other choice but to expel Gregory in light of his most recent _'outburst'_."

Greg couldn't believe what he was hearing. Outburst? He didn't even do anything. He couldn't even believe he was being blamed for something Kevin had done to himself. On top of that they were all panelizing him just for trying to keep to himself.

They were all lying.

So much for trying to make friends,

Everybody lies.

…

Greg was lying on his stomach on his bed under the covers, listening. His parents were out in the living room fighting. They were fighting about him.

Earlier, mom explained to him what "expelled" meant. It meant he couldn't go back to his school anymore. She looked disappointed when she explained that to him.

"You see Greg…" She said, her voice quivering, "You can't behave a certain way that's different from the rest of the kids- you have to try and blend in."

"You used to tell me we are all special in our own way." Greg noted cleverly.  
>A paradox.<p>

Blythe nodded. "Yes, but sometimes in life you have to comply with the rules… At school, at work when you get older…."

Greg looked down to the ground without saying a word.

And now, a few hours later, he finally understood the magnitude of his actions. His parents were screaming furiously at each other. Getting expelled was NOT a good thing.

"You shouldn't have taught him how to use that thing!" Blythe shrieked at her husband, "What kind of father teachers a small boy how to use a pocket knife to build a slingshot!"

"I was trying to teach him discipline! He should've known better then to pull it out a school!"

Blythe cut off her husband, "He-is-a-seven-year-old-boy-!"

John House's face was red with rage, "You baby him! Always had! That's why he can't even aim a sling correctly! That's why he hit that other boy's eye!"

"He said he didn't do it!" Blythe defended her son.

John smiled manically, "That's what he told you? And YOU believe him?" He laughed, "The boy's a spoiled little liar!"

John made his way through the hallway and Greg could hear his heavy angry steps. He grabbed the edges of his blanket and breathed heavily. The door opened and he did not dare to open his eyes.

"Come here!" His father said, pulling his arm, twisting it into an odd angle as he dragged the small boy down the hall.

"Ahh!" Greg screamed, "You're hurting me!"

"John!" Blythe yelped, "What are you doing!"

John turned to face Blythe, "None of this from you!" He ordered, "He's MY son too!"

And with that he slammed the front door behind him, with his son in hand, leaving Blythe alone in the small apartment by herself.

…

His father dragged him for what seemed like ages, it was the middle of the night and there was no sigh of life around the army base. His shoulder was screaming with pain and though he would not dare to verbally scream at his father at the moment he did let out small shrieks of pain uncontrollably.

Finally, after a 20-minute hike, John threw his son to the ground. Greg cried in pain as he hit the muddy surface and was panting heavily. He did not dare look at his father.

"Give me the knife." John ordered coldly. Hovering tall above the small boy.

Greg stopped panting and froze for a moment.

"Give. Me. THE KNIFE." His father repeated.

Greg turned to face his father slowly. Still planted on the ground, nursing his shoulder, "B…but…" He shuddered, "But you gave it to me…for my birthday…" His voice broke into a whisper as his heart broke into a million little pieces.

His father extended his hand - a blank expression on his face, and waited.

Greg reached into his pocket and handed the knife to his father. He stared at him with sad blue eyes.

"This here…" His father said fiddling with the knife without even glancing at Greg. "Is a privilege that needs to be earned. To carry a knife, you must be level-headed and obedient."

Greg sniffled, fighting back the lump of tears that was building in his throat.

"You possess none of those skills…." John continued, "You're a brat, for thinking you can do whatever you want whenever you want. That's how you got yourself expelled!"

"But I didn't!" Greg tried to protest.

"ENOUGH!" John growled, grabbing the collar of the young boy's shirt, "You listen to me now, your mother may buy your sob stories and lies but I see right through you, I have seen war and death and things that I dare not speak of, and let me tell you- it's brats like you, who think they are so damn privileged they dare not live under the same set of rules like the rest of us. They end up getting everybody killed!  
>Just because they DO NOT listen! They DO NOT obey orders!" He took a deep breath and heard his young son's voice quiver in his throat, he let go of the boy's shirt and got up to his feet, looking down, "I'll be damned if my own son grows up to be like that." His words were loaded, dark and heavy. Greg couldn't take it anymore, his breath hitched as the lump in his throat grew larger and he burst into tears.<p>

John stared for a moment, and then turned around and proceeded to walk away.  
>When Greg lifted his teary eyes, his dad already had his back to him and was ready to leave.<p>

"Wait…" Greg croaked, "Wher..where are you going?"

John did not turn around but instead kept walking, "You're enough of a man to shoot a boy in the face- Then you're enough of a man to spend the night outside on your own".

Greg cried, warm tears streaming down his face, he fought with every nerve in his body to let the words he needed to say come out, "No…" He cried, his voice hitching and quivering, "Don't!" He begged, but his father was still walking away, "DAD!" He finally managed a scream, "Dad PLEASE!" his chest was pounding as the tears kept falling and he felt his head boil, "DAD !"

But his father's shadow was almost gone, and the night was getting cold. He was all alone, but still the only thought roaming through his head was, "Please, please don't leave me here…" even though he know no one was there to hear his plea.


End file.
